


Take You For a Trip All Around the World

by withdiamonds



Category: Popslash
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-20
Updated: 2012-01-20
Packaged: 2017-10-29 21:02:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/324146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/withdiamonds/pseuds/withdiamonds
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lance is a cook in a diner and Chris works on motorcycles.  Life is good, but Chris thinks it's time for a road trip. Written for the 2011 MTYG popslash Secret Santa story exchange.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Take You For a Trip All Around the World

Lance looks up from the grill when he hears the sound of familiar laughter and checks the clock on the wall.

Sure enough, it's five thirty in the afternoon. Smiling, he throws another burger on the grill. He can't wait to tell his boyfriend all about his new idea.

When the hamburger is done, he arranges it on a toasted bun with lettuce, an onion slice, and a slab of bacon, just the way Chris likes it. The ketchup he leaves to Chris's discretion. Chris can be very fussy about his condiments.

Around five thirty is just about when the diner really starts to get busy. Today, Chris sits in his usual spot at the counter, flirting relentlessly with Britney, who flirts back just as determinedly.

The two of them make Lance smile. He likes it when his friends are happy.

He knows Charlie will bitch at him for coming out of the kitchen, but Lance risks a quick trip out to the counter, wrapping an arm around Britney's waist and giving it a squeeze as he slides the plate with Chris's hamburger in front of him.

"Hey, baby," he says with a happy smile.

"Hey, yourself," Chris says, grinning back at him.

"You'd better get back to the kitchen, Lance," Britney says, "before Charlie sees you out here." She leans over, resting her elbows on the counter so that her breasts are squished together and practically falling out of her waitress uniform.

Chris eyes them appreciatively.

"I can keep Mr. Kirkpatrick here company for a while." Britney tilts her head at Chris and smiles coyly.

"Would you mind?" Lance asks. "Y'all know I've got another hour to go on my shift." Lance works ten to six thirty. He deals with the lunch crowd but gets to leave without having to handle the full dinner rush. Carmine starts at six, taking over until the diner closes.

That leaves Lance free to spend the evenings with his boyfriend.

"Charlie's giving you the stink-eye, baby," Chris says around a mouthful of burger.

Lance looks sideways at his boss, who is indeed glaring at him. He leans forward and plants a quick kiss on Chris's cheek. "See you later, baby."

Lance scurries back into the kitchen and checks on the meatloaf for table four.

*

"So, guess what?" It's five hours later and Lance is resting his head on Chris's bare chest. Chris's fingers are tangled in Lance's hair, combing out the last remnants of the gel he carefully used to style it this morning.

"Yeah, what?" Chris sounds drowsy and content and Lance takes a moment to pat himself metaphorically on the back. He counts it a success any time he can make Chris sound like that. He sighs smugly.

"I know what you're thinking, Lance," Chris says. "You think you fucked me into a coma. I know your self-satisfied sigh when I hear it."

"Probably because you hear it so often, because that's just how good I am." Lance really is very pleased with himself.

Chris snorts. "I thought you wanted to tell me something."

"Oh, right." Lance turns onto his side and wiggles around until his head is tucked into Chris's shoulder." "I talked to a guy who knows a guy who can get me a deal on surplus iPads. And then we can – "

Chris flicks Lance on the forehead. "Surplus iPads? That doesn't even make sense, Lance. How are iPads _surplus?"_

Lance takes a deep breath to tell him, but Chris interrupts. "Never mind, I don't want to know." He sighs. "Listen, baby, I get what you're trying to do, and I love your drive. But you're gonna get yourself in trouble if you're not careful."

Lance is tempted to pout, but Chris usually has a sixth sense about these things. If he thinks it's not a good idea, it probably isn't. "Okay, I'll tell him to forget it." He tries not to sound discouraged. He wishes he could think of _something_ awesome so that he can make it big. So that he can impress Chris and his parents.

Okay, he knows he doesn't have to impress Chris; Chris loves him just the way he is. But his parents aren't all that thrilled with some of his choices, and, well….

Not that Lance really _chose_ to be a cook in a diner. He'd wanted to go to the Pittsburgh Culinary Institute, but that didn't work out the way he'd have liked it to, for a number of reasons he'd really rather not think about.

But he met Charlie there and ended up working in his diner, and Lance is pretty happy there. He gets to cook, and meet people, and it's fine.

Add Chris to that and Lance would say his life is pretty amazing.

"Hey," Chris says, ruffling Lance's hair. "Tomorrow's Friday. You know what that means."

Lance brightens. Chris is an awesome boyfriend and knows just how to cheer him up. "It means the bar at Chili's." He yawns, and then smiles at Chris. "You think JC'll come this time?"

Chris shook his head. "I have no idea. I doubt it. One of these days we're gonna have to stage a raid and drag his stubborn ass out of his house."

"I know a guy who can help us plan the logistics, if you want," Lance says drowsily.

"Of course you do." Chris shoves Lance off his chest. "I'm not your pillow. Now go to sleep."

Lance hums agreeably and snuggles down into his real pillow, which is admittedly more comfortable than Chris's hairy chest. "'Night, baby."

"'Night, Lance."

*

On Friday night, Lance and Chris go to the bar at the Chili's next to the mall, where they meet their friends every week. Well, all except JC. JC doesn't like to leave his house, so they never get to hang out with him except when he throws a party. JC knows how to throw a hell of a party, but sadly he doesn’t do it very often.

When they get to the bar, Joey, AJ, and Justin are already there, and of course, AJ and Justin are deep in the throes of an argument.

"All I'm saying is that cutting funds for music and art while spending hundreds of thousands of dollars on a new football stadium –" Justin's got his indignant face on.

"The stadium's gonna get used for other sports, too, you know," AJ interrupts. "Soccer, track, lacrosse, _girl's_ lacrosse. Even the marching band will get to use it. I think -"

"There won't be a damn marching band if they keep cutting funds –" Justin interrupts just as ruthlessly.

"Can't you control your boyfriend, Joey?" Chris asks, coming up behind Joey and throwing his arms around his waist. He burrows his face between Joey's shoulder blades. "You know he's just trying to get Justin all worked up."

"Are you wiping your nose on my shirt, Kirkpatrick?" Joey says, throwing his elbow back and catching Chris in the side.

Chris grunts and pulls back. "Asshole."

Lance hands Chris the beer he'd ordered while he and Joey were being five and Chris smiles his thanks.

"What are we drinking to tonight?" AJ asks, raising his glass. "Lance, what's happening with the frozen meatballs on a stick?"

Lance sighs. "Tommy said no one wants to eat a meatball when it's frozen." Chris pats him on the shoulder and Justin makes a sympathetic face at him. "I still think with the right kind of dipping sauce –"

"Tommy's probably right, Lance," Joey says. "Even my mom's marinara sauce wouldn't make a frozen meatball easy to eat."

"I guess." Lance sighs. "But Veronica over at Primanti Brothers was going to give me their left-over meatballs everyday." Another opportunity that slipped sadly away.

He looks up to see his four friends all staring at him, horror-stuck.

"What?"

Chris shakes his head fondly, while Justin makes gagging noises. "Baby, you can't sell people old meat."

"Why not?" AJ says with a smirk. "Some people like their meat a little on the old side."

Everybody groans.

Joey grins and hooks an elbow around AJ's neck. "You're lucky I do."

"Hey, fucker, I'm only one year older than you," AJ says mildly, then he blatantly gropes Joey, leering at Justin.

"You disgust me," Justin says loftily, and he turns to the bartender to order another round.

"I heard your show today, Joey," Lance says, hastily changing the subject. "It was good."

"It's always good," Joey says; no false modesty there. No one ever needs to worry about Joey's self-esteem.

"That's because your producer is awesome," Chris scoffs. "Kevin is way better than you deserve. He's the best radio producer in Pittsburgh."

"Thank you," Joey says dryly, toasting Chris with his beer.

"To Joey," Lance says with a laugh, and they all raise their bottles.

Lance loves his friends.

*

"A road trip? What do you mean?"

"Well, Lance, a road trip is when people take a trip, usually on a road –"

"I know _what_ a road trip is, Chris," Lance says, scowling. "I meant – you mean – me and you – you want to – what, right _now?"_

"Why not now?" Chris asks. "It's summer, we both have two weeks vacation coming, we can take your car if you don't want to take my bike. That's probably best anyway, there's a lot of bugs between here and Orlando, and I don't want 'em in my teeth." Lance can tell Chris is pretty excited about this. He'll admit it would be great fun, but the timing couldn't be worse. "We can go to Disney World, meet Mickey Mouse, you know, the usual. So what do you say? Why not now?"

Lance chews on his lower lip, looking at Chris with hopeful eyes. "Because Valerie and Sonny just found a place to set up their t-shirt business and they need me to –"

Chris blows out an annoyed breath and Lance stops talking. They sit in silence until Lance can't stand it anymore – about fifteen seconds at least – and then he says, not even trying to keep the hurt out of his voice, "What?"

"Lance, you know I love you, and I love your drive, your ambition," Chris starts. Lance frowns.

"But?"

"But maybe you could take a break from trying to start ten different businesses a week. Maybe you could give the crazy ideas a rest, just long enough to spend a week or two with your _boyfriend_ without trying to become the next Donald Trump every waking minute." Chris's voice has risen by the end of that little speech and Lance stares at him, hurt and anger warring in his breast.

Anger wins, at least for the moment.

"I'm sorry, I didn't know my attempts to make a better life for myself, for _us_ , bothered you so much." One sentence, that's all the longer his attempt at a dignified response lasts. Lance feels his pulse pounding in his ears and he knows his face is unattractively red. "I didn't know you thought I was crazy. Just – just fuck off, Chris!"

Lance storms off to the bedroom and slams the door. Of course, it's only eight o'clock in the evening and there's nothing to do in there, not to mention if he's going to go to bed, he needs to pee and brush his teeth first, and the bathroom is down the hall.

So much for his dramatic exit.

After a while, he hears the front door of their apartment close, so he slowly opens the bedroom door, peering out until he's sure Chris is gone.

That saves his dignity, but it makes Lance sad that Chris walked out.

He pees and brushes his teeth, then sits on the couch in the dark and waits for Chris to come home.

*

Lance wakes up the next morning with a crick in his neck and a cramp in his leg. His back isn't feeling so great, either.

They don't have the world's most comfortable couch.

His first thought is Chris; he wonders if Chris came home last night. He's almost afraid to look around and find out.

But once Lance gets his eyes completely open, he sees Chris sleeping in the recliner, which is way more uncomfortable than the couch ever thought about being.

"Chris?" Lance whispers. He clears his throat. "Chris," he says more loudly.

Chris blinks himself awake, yawning and stretching and making his shirt ride up so that the soft skin of his belly is showing. Lance can't take his eyes off it.

"Hey." Chris smiles tentatively at him.

"What on earth are you doing, sleeping in that torture device?" Lance asks.

Chris shrugs, which makes his shirt fall back into place, which lets Lance raise his eyes to Chris's. "If you were going to sleep out here like a stubborn ass, so was I." He shakes his head. "I don't like to sleep in that bed without you."

That's the sweetest thing Chris has ever said to him, and Lance beams at him. "Me, either." He takes a deep breath. "I'm sorry, baby. I didn't mean to get so mad. I just – I want –"

"Lance, do you really think our life is so bad?" Chris asks. What? Is that what Chris thinks, that Lance is unhappy, or dissatisfied with their life together? He looks at Lance uncertainly and Lance feels like a heel.

"No! I love our life," Lance hastens to reassure him.

"Then why are you always trying to make it, I don't know, _bigger?"_ Chris looks at him sternly. "I'm not your parents, Lance. I'm not going to be disappointed if you don't _make something of your life."_ And, yeah, Chris can do a pretty good imitation of Lance's dad. "I am, however, going to be disappointed if you don't go to Disney World with me." He flutters his eyelashes at Lance.

Lance feels a rush of love and warmth steal over him. He nods. "I would love to go on a road trip to Orlando with you, Chris Kirkpatrick."

"Good. Now get your ass over here so we can have make up sex."

"We can't have make up sex in that chair," Lance says, appalled. "We'd hurt ourselves. We need to have it in our bed."

Chris sighs and struggles to get out of the recliner. It apparently requires a lot of grunting and groaning. "Fine. Get your ass in the bedroom."

"No way, not until we brush our teeth," Lance says as he gets to his feet.

"Jesus Christ, you're high maintenance," Chris grumbles as he shoves Lance toward the bathroom.

"You wouldn't have it any other way," Lance says with a satisfied smile.

"No, I guess I wouldn't."

*

Lance's eyes shine as he watches the fireworks over Cinderella's castle. He turns to Chris, his mouth stretched in a smile that shows almost all of his teeth. It's a very big smile.

"Why didn't you tell me there were all these fireworks here?" he demands. "We'd have been here months ago!"

Chris smiles right back at him. "Wait until you see what they do at Epcot every night. It's called Illuminations and it's awesome."

Chris really has no idea if the fireworks-slash-laser show at Epcot is awesome or not, but he's done his research and he knows his boyfriend. He's gonna love it.

Chris leans over and kisses Lance right in the middle of the Magic Kingdom. He's going to get laid every night of this vacation.


End file.
